


bravery

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e01-02 The Darkest Hour, Friendship, Gen, Loyalty, Sharing a Room, basically Merlin camps out in Arthur's chambers to protect him, scared slumber parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 16:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15147197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: “I’mreallynot in the mood for a slumber party, Merlin. Listening to your prattle the whole night– that would really strike fear into a man’s heart,” he said, and almost looked like he was going to laugh. Almost.“When have I ever talked all night long?”“That’s only because you’re too scared stiff when we camp out.”Another unearthly scream somewhere outside. Merlin swallowed. “I’m pretty scared stiff now," he muttered.[The Darkest Hour part one compliant]





	bravery

_“It was easier to be brave, he discovered, when someone needed your protection.”_

 

The first night, he hadn’t even thought about it. He was shell-shocked from the attack in the village, only to come home and find the city in shambles through the same ghost-like enemies. His magic was useless against them. He couldn’t be of any help. Arthur had sequestered himself away after heading up a protection regiment and Merlin had gone to Gaius, worked with him until he had been about to pass out again where he stood.

The second night was worse, maybe, because they kept _coming._ Building fires could only last them so long, and the body count increased overnight. Merlin couldn’t shake the cold, and Arthur dozed off at the dining table for lunch.

The third night, Merlin thought, was the first night he really got his sense back about him. He’d been accompanying Arthur on as many patrols at night as he could, following even when Arthur dismissed him for the night, telling him to take a torch and get home. But he’d been leaving the prince’s safety at night to the guards posted outside of his room, and that was reckless. Sure, they were there, but if those creatures could get inside the citadel as they had been, and moved as quickly as they did, the guards would have no time to get into the room to protect him.

Not that Merlin could do much better, but it was his duty to watch over Arthur. He didn’t trust his safety in anyone else’s hands.

“I’m staying,” he announced, taking a seat at the table even as Arthur looked at him as though he’d gone mad.

“Why the _hell_ would I want you to do that?”

“You need someone to protect you.” It was as ridiculous as it sounded, but _again,_ he only knew what he could do– or couldn’t– and he had left the prince’s safety up to chance for two days already. He wouldn’t do it a third. Couldn’t risk it.

“And you think you’re the man for the job?” Arthur retorted. “Go home, Merlin. I’m safe here.”

“Are you, though?” he fired back. If they were butting heads more than usual, Merlin could safely say it was because of the toll the past few days had put on both of them. Of course they were arguing more than they usually did. Fear given voice. “Gwen was attacked in the hallways before we came back, and I’ve _seen_ the guards they’ve brought in to Gaius. They were patrolling inside and out, Arthur. Nowhere is safe.”

“Merlin–”

“Besides,” Merlin interrupted, leaning the chair back on two legs, “how’re you going to tend the fire when you’re asleep?”

“Uh… the same way I have been?”

“Well, this way you won’t have to worry about it. You look like you could use the extra sleep.”

“I could _what?”_

He shot him a look. “You know what I mean.”

Arthur looked like he was primed to argue, lips pursed in a way Merlin knew too well, one that meant he was about to get a lecture, but he wasn’t leaving, _he’d_ sit in the hall if he had to, but he was _staying._

One of the ghosts screamed outside of the window. They both jumped, and Arthur’s hand fell to his blade. Instinct. His eyes stayed on the drawn curtains for a long moment. Then, he sighed, letting both hands fall back at his sides. “I’m _really_ not in the mood for a slumber party, Merlin. Listening to your prattle the whole night– that would really strike fear into a man’s heart,” he said, and almost looked like he was going to laugh. Almost.

“When have I ever talked all night long?”

“That’s only because you’re too scared stiff when we camp out.”

Another unearthly scream somewhere outside. Merlin swallowed. “I’m pretty scared stiff now,” he muttered. Then he raised his voice again, stubborn. He wasn’t leaving. He couldn’t. “Besides, you won’t even know I’m here.”

He leaned back too far on the chair. His weight sent it toppling over backwards, legs scraping against the floor, and Merlin went with it, banging his leg against the table as he went. He landed in a heap of the chair and his own limbs, face pressed against the cold floor. “… ow.” Before he could even lift his head, there was the sound of something moving, something rolling–

– and the fruit from the basket came toppling off the table as well.

From somewhere near the window, he heard Arthur sigh.

 

The next night came with even less resistance. Exhaustion further settling in. Arthur was asleep in only his shorts by the time Merlin had finished up the rest of the chores. It had taken some wrangling to persuade him actually _under_ the blankets instead of on top of them, and then a little longer to find all of the abandoned clothes to pick up and set aside for the wash. Then, he had returned to the fire, taking up post by the fireplace itself in case the flames needed any help along.

It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d had worse. He’d do anything to assure Arthur’s safety. Bonus points that it was warm to sit there, though. He _still_ hadn’t been able to shake the cold from seeing the Cailleach in the banquet hall. He wondered what it would take to get rid of it, to get rid of the way her eyes looked staring into his soul.

He shivered, and leaned as close to the fire as he dared.

Sleep was uneasy– the usual. He woke up half past two from the shrieking outside, startling awake and breathing hard and reaching for a torch. His heart was in his throat. He truly was terrified. He wondered how he was supposed to pretend he wasn’t.

Arthur woke not fifteen minutes later, a rustle of movement in the bed and then unnatural stillness for a long moment. And then a mumbled “Merlin?” voice still thick with sleep, confusion. Maybe fear. He wondered. He knew.

“… they’re closer,” he said shortly, and pretended his own voice wasn’t garbled with emotion, too. It was always worst half past the night. The closer it got to dawn, the fewer attacks there would be. For now, they were in the thick of it.

Arthur was still for another moment, and then the blankets fell from his bare torso as he sat up. The firelight cast his bedhead into relief, but Merlin couldn’t make out the look on his face.

“… I should be out there.”

“It would do no good, sire.”

“It doesn’t matter if it does good. It is my duty to protect this kingdom…”

He wasn’t arguing. Not really. Mostly, he just sounded _tired,_ and Merlin understood that feeling all too well. He both understood and _hated_ that he could do nothing to help this time.

“You’d just go get yourself killed,” he said. “Until we figure out a way to fight these creatures, you can’t risk your safety. The kingdom needs you… now more than ever.”

“The kingdom needs a miracle. A hero.”

He gave a small– _very_ small– smile. “Good thing you’re one of those, then.”

Arthur laughed at that, slightly. A puff of air through his nose, likely humorless going by his tone when he replied. “I’m no hero, Merlin.”

_You will be. You already are._

He didn’t say it out loud.

There was a ghostly wail outside the citadel, and Arthur maneuvered himself back under the blankets after a long, long moment.

 

He heard the scream before he felt it, the prickle of magic and ice water crawling through his skin. Too close, _nearby;_ he snatched the torch from the floor to relight and nearly threw himself to his feet as the bedroom door burst open.

“Arthur!” he yelled, and didn’t have time to see if the prince had woken, still half asleep himself, moving on instinct and the urge to keep the prince, if not himself, alive as always.

Somehow, he managed to hit his target in his own still half-asleep state, swiping the flaming torch through the spectre as it came screaming into the room. It vanished instantly, but Merlin could _feel_ the cold radiating off of it. It nearly turned his limbs to jelly. It was all he could do to keep a hold on the torch. This wasn’t his first time fending them off, of course, but… the first time they’d broken into _Arthur’s chambers._ That was too close. It was too close.

Arthur had woken up, was brushing around him to go kneel next to the guards in the hallway. Dead, probably. He could see ice on their faces. He couldn’t move.

Something somewhere in him was telling him to get a grip, but it was mostly overtaken by the part that had been dragged awake and into a living nightmare instead. He’d be fine in a moment. Once he remembered how to breathe.

The commotion had woken up others, too, rushing to check on the prince, get the fallen guards to Gaius, etcetera etcetera. Merlin stopped listening. Arthur directed them all, looking tired and rattled but _defiant_ in the face of anyone else’s eyes. Merlin hovered in the room, fingers still clenched around the torch in hand. Dawn was nearly there. An hour, give or take, they just had to fend this off for another hour–

“Merlin.”

He startled, looking around at Arthur. Everyone else had gone. “Yeah.”

Arthur sighed quietly, moving away from the door to take the torch from him. “Here. Go sit down.”

He followed the order without second thought. Unclenching his hands from the torch seemed to have flipped a switch; he thought he was tired before, but he was abruptly _exhausted._ He could barely stay on his feet, so he returned to his chosen spot next to the fire instead.

Arthur surprised him by, instead of returning to his bed or even the desk, joining him.

“Well,” he said, shoulder nudging Merlin over to make room, “that was quite the wake-up call.”

Merlin laughed humorlessly. “Yeah,” he muttered, resting his head on his knees. He turned to look at the prince, if only just. “Who needs a simple ‘good morning, sire?’”

It was the worst of circumstances. Arthur still managed to smile, even roll his eyes. “… thanks.”

It was gratitude that, for once, Merlin wished Arthur didn’t have to give him. He nodded slightly. “Yeah.”

He didn’t realize for a long moment that he was still shaking. It took even longer for him to realize that Arthur was too.

 

The long nights of uneasy sleep were getting to him. A perceived rustle of the curtains and he was fumbling the candle right out of his hand, wincing as it rolled over into the shadows.

“ … thought I saw something.”

“What was it, a spider?”

It was his imagination, he knew. But… what if it wasn’t? After last night, after the last few nights both here in the citadel and the travel back from the outlying villages. He was frozen in place once again, staring hard into the shadows.

Arthur’s footsteps moved behind him. “Just pick it up.”

Easy for him to say. It was almost _too_ easy for him to say, Merlin thought, exhaustion flaring up in legitimate bitterness and he _knew_ he needed to get some sleep because of it.

“You want me to get one of the maids to do it for you?”

“It’s not a joke.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, sharp and emotional. He really, _really_ needed to sleep.

He expected a chastisement, a taunt. But Arthur didn’t give him that, just was quiet for a moment before replying with a simple “… yeah.” And then he went to pick up the candle himself.

Merlin felt weak with relief when he did, and when Arthur pushed the curtain aside to reveal nothing. It was easy to fall into the taunts then, into the joking that was normal– might have been normal if not for the shrieking that echoed outside.

They both turned to the window at the next cry.

“… you’re not scared?” Merlin asked shortly. It was ridiculous; no one _couldn’t_ be at this point, not anymore. But he was tired and worn down and wore his heart on his sleeve and Arthur… Arthur never had. It was a trait Merlin was almost jealous of.

“Oh, I am, Merlin,” Arthur murmured. But there… _there_ , just for a moment, it sounded like Arthur was wearing his heart on his sleeve, too. Merlin didn’t know if it was comforting or terrifying. “Maybe more than you.”

He spluttered a laugh, because he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t have said anything then, even if he’d wanted to. So he made a silent joke out of it, and Arthur smiled wanly as he passed by.

“Stay close to the fire tonight,” he said as he went. “But try to get some sleep.”

The two things he wanted to do most of all. “Same to you.”

 

“You look tired.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Have you seen yourself lately, sire?” he fired back, daylight and adrenaline kicking in his sense of humor again.

The horse nickered softly and Arthur grinned, sallow and stressed. Assumptions shared: the Dorocha, the Veil, a name and a reason– Morgana, of course Morgana– a potential way to fix it. Arthur, willing to be the sacrifice again.

Merlin, atop his own horse, prepared to ride for the Isle of the Blessed and leave all of Camelot behind for good, willing to secure the prince’s safety no matter what the cost.

“Well, there’ll be a chance to rest soon.” Arthur lifted his chin, watching as the knights led their horses up. He looked… regal. Tired, but even so. A future king. “Just as soon as we repair the Veil.”

“Yeah.” He agreed on instinct, but it was true. There would be no need for rest after Merlin sacrificed himself for Arthur, but he didn’t need to know that. “It’ll be okay.”

Arthur turned his head to look at him. “You think?”

“I know.”

He spoke without thinking, sometimes, promising things he knew or figured or could understand. Things that no one else did, things that _Arthur_ couldn’t possibly know. And then Arthur just _looked_ at him, like he was trying to figure him out, and that was something Merlin wouldn’t let him do. Not just yet. Not now. He turned his attention back to the knights himself, ignoring whatever look Arthur was giving him.

“Merlin, you…”

“Everyone’s here,” he interrupted, nodding as Gwaine joined the group. “We only have until nightfall to find shelter, we should leave as soon as possible.”

It was an efficient distraction. “I _know_ that, Merlin. Come on.” He clicked his tongue, urging his horse on.

Merlin huffed a short laugh, giving a short squeeze to the sides of his horse. It started forward obediently, dutifully. Just like Merlin, as he once again refused to leave their future king’s side.

It was his destiny, after all; he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been doing a rewatch of Merlin, as you do... that scene in Arthur's chambers where he admits he's scared gets me every damn time. So I had to write a little something with bonus protective stubborn af Merlin because while this probably _didn't_ happen, you know it probably crossed his mind - anything to keep Arthur safe, right?
> 
> quote from Eye of the World, by Robert Jordan


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